The Choice of Sam Winchester
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: In the aftermath of learning what Dean did to save him, Sam has a choice to make. Who's going to help him make it? Supernatural take on "A Christmas Carol". Spoilers through to 9.09, "Holy Terror".
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the boys, I don't own Dickens.

**Author's Note: **Once upon a time SandyDee84 and I were having a chat and we decided that a _Supernatural _version of _A Christmas Carol _would be awesome. And then I did nothing about it. Until now.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta.

**Summary: **In the aftermath of learning what Dean did to save him, Sam has a choice to make. Who's going to help him make it?

Spoilers through to 9.09, _Holy Terror_.

* * *

**The Choice of Sam Winchester**

**Prologue**

_Because I could not stop for Death –  
He kindly stopped for me –  
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  
And Immortality._

_(Emily Dickinson)_

Sam thought he might be dead.

He wasn't in Heaven; he knew that much. Anyway, Heaven had been sealed. Maybe souls couldn't get through at all.

Maybe Sam hadn't earned Heaven.

But this wasn't Hell, either. Or Purgatory.

This was… different.

Sam looked around at the expanse of meadow. It stretched to the horizon in every direction, broken only by the black ribbon of the highway. The long grass was swaying softly, though there was no wind. Clouds roiled in the grey sky above, around a circle of light that was too pale to be the sun and too big to be the moon.

The silence was broken by a faint rhythmic clicking. It grew louder, though it was a minute before Sam realized that he was hearing a horse's hooves.

He turned in time to see an old-fashioned hearse, drawn by a surprisingly well-fed white horse, draw to a halt behind him. The driver was a wizened old man who looked vaguely familiar. He gave Sam a friendly nod before leaping down from the box and opening the door.

There was no coffin inside. There was, instead, a small table bolted to the floor. It was set with two places. A familiar figure was sitting at one of them eating a hamburger.

"Hello, Sam. Join me for lunch?"

Without a word, Sam climbed into the hearse and sat in the empty chair.

Death smiled at him, pushing a takeout bag across the table. "Eat. You must be starving."

"Thanks." Sam pulled another hamburger out of the bag and unwrapped it slowly. "So I… I really am dead this time?"

"You wouldn't be sorry if you were." Death's smile was anything but comforting. "That much I know. You really are extraordinary, Sam. Most of your kind flee from me, but you… You're not afraid. I don't think you ever have been." He bent and opened a cooler Sam hadn't noticed earlier. He pulled out two beers, opening one and handing it to Sam. "We have so much to talk about."

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet. Not unless you want to be."

"But my body –"

"Is a mess, yes. But Gadreel managed to hold it together. You can return to it… Or you can go on."

"Go on where?"

"That isn't my department, Sam. I don't deal in the metaphysics of good and evil. But I don't think you have much to fear from the afterlife."

"I want to go on."

"You certainly have the right. You've done your share of world-saving. Anybody would want a break… You don't have to decide immediately, though. You have time to think about it. Dean's trying to force Gadreel out of your body. Once he's done that, you can go back if you want."

"I want to –"

"Go on. I know." Death put down his fork and met Sam's eyes. "I seldom give advice, Sam. I'm not in the business, and mortals never want good advice in any case. But there's a battle brewing. It isn't like you to run from a fight."

"I'm _tired_ of fighting."

"And what about your brother?"

Sam felt a flare of anger. "Dean lied to me. He _tricked _me."

"You're angry. I don't blame you. But the question, Sam, is, once it's too late to change your mind, will you blame _yourself_?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I seldom offer anyone this privilege, but I think you've earned it. We'll be stopping outside a motel in a minute. Room 6 is booked in your name. Spend the night there. In the morning you can either go on with me or… Well." Death smiled, and it was even less pleasant than the first time. "You need to remember, Sam, that I am inevitable. In the entire universe, I am the only constant. Come with me now or come with me later; a human lifetime is nothing to me. But it may be everything to you." The hearse stopped. Death nodded towards the door. "Have a pleasant evening."

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	2. Fear

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta, and to reticento, Texas-Devil-Or-Angel, Stoney Angel, Riathe Mai, Katy M VT, Sarah, Jeanny, emebalia, Fae-and-night, Imrourke, sylvia37, SPN Mum, sammynanci, murphy9202, godsdaughter77, judyann, SupernaturallyEgocentric, BranchSuper, Visionairy, L.A.H.H, twinklingeyes07, CeCe Away, SandyDee84 and twomoms for the reviews.

* * *

**Part I: Fear**

_My tender, first, and simple years  
Thou didst abuse and then betray;  
Since stir'd'st up jealousies and fears  
When all the causes were away._

_(Ben Jonson)_

Room 6 was surprisingly, almost manically, cheerful. The wallpaper was a bright pattern of balloons and candy, the beds were neatly made with clean yellow sheets that smelled of soap and fabric softener, and a bunch of buttercups was jammed into a vase on the windowsill.

Sam spent a couple of minutes searching for trapdoors and two-way mirrors before he decided it wasn't worth the effort. Whatever was happening or about to happen, whatever plan Death had, he couldn't do much other than wait it out.

He was flicking through the channels on the flatscreen TV – all of which seemed to be showing peppy chick flicks or children's cartoons – when there was a sharp rap on the door.

He got to his feet and opened it.

Castiel was standing outside.

Sam stared at him. "Cas? What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk." The Angel came in without waiting for an invitation. "You can't keep doing this, Sam."

"What can't I keep doing?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Changing things." Cas dropped into one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fireplace. "Sam, I'm sorry to have to say this, but you… You complicate things." He made a vague gesture. "Dean can't think rationally with you around. He does things he knows are stupid. He wants to bring you back. He's _trying_ to bring you back right now."

"Death said –"

"Death _wants _you to go back, Sam. He's manipulating you. You can't possibly believe that's the best idea. Do you remember what happened last time? Dean sold his soul to bring you back. He went to Hell, and _you _started the Apocalypse. How can he trust you after that?"

Sam felt something twist in his gut. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You always think you're doing the right thing. I'm not saying you don't have good intentions. But your judgement is flawed. You're arrogant. You're weak, and you're Dean's weakness."

The thing in Sam's gut twisted harder, making him feel physically sick.

"Come with me," Cas said abruptly, getting up. "I have something to show you."

He seized Sam's wrist and pulled him out of the motel room into the corridor –

But it wasn't the corridor anymore. It was a street in a suburban neighbourhood. Snow fell softly from the sky, carpeting the ground.

"Come." Cas pulled Sam up a driveway into a familiar house.

"This is –"

"Lisa Braeden's house."

Cas opened the door, and warmth and noise poured out. Sam could hear voices and laughter and the clink of glasses.

He followed the Angel inside.

The family was in the living room. There was Lisa curled on the sofa, talking to a woman who looked enough like her to be her sister. Ben was on the rug with another kid, probably around six. There was a crib in the corner.

Dean was sitting across the fire from Lisa, making small talk with another man around his own age. Sam caught enough of their conversation to know they were discussing football. Apparently whichever team Dean supported during his Lisa phase had lost every game of the season.

It seemed surprisingly… comfortable.

"Is this what Dean _could_ have?" Sam whispered.

"This is what Dean _had_," Cas said simply. "He had it, and he gave it up for you. Look at him, Sam. This was the year your soul was in Lucifer's Cage. Dean moved on. He was happy."

Sam had to admit that Dean _did _look happy. He was laughing with the man, whoever he was, and if his eyes occasionally misted over when he thought nobody was looking… Well, that didn't outweigh the fact that he was having a normal Christmas with a normal family.

"Dean can still have a normal life," Sam argued.

"Not with you around. You attract trouble, Sam. I know you mean well, and maybe it's not your fault, but you _do_. And Dean feels obligated to clean up after you." Cas laid a hand on his arm and his voice was sympathetic when he spoke again. "I've made mistakes too. I know what it's like. You think you're doing the right thing, but you're not, and other people have to clean up your mess because you're not strong enough to do it yourself."

"I did what I could," Sam protested.

"To save the world, yes. But what about Dean? You came back from the Cage and he got pulled back into the hunting life. He would have been happier if you'd stayed gone."

Sam stared at Cas speechlessly for a moment.

"You have to go on, Sam," Cas insisted, when Sam didn't say anything. "It's best for everyone. It's best for _Dean_. He needs space. You have to go."

"Sammy?"

Sam turned at the sound of the quiet voice, and he saw Dean had left his seat by the fireplace and was standing next to him.

"Dean."

"_Sammy._" And then strong arms were around him, practically crushing the breath out of him. "You're here. You're _here_. You're… _Sammy_."

Sam hesitated only a moment before hugging Dean back. Dean's grip tightened in response.

But something was wrong. Lisa and her sister and the man and the kids were all going on with their activities, the man talking to the empty space where Dean had been. None of them seemed to have realized that Dean had moved or that Sam was there.

Dean seemed to have noticed the same thing, because, with a tiny, apologetic smile in Sam's direction, he turned to Lisa, still with one arm around his little brother. "Lisa, you remember Sammy?" Lisa showed no sign of having heard him. "Lisa?"

Sam's throat burned. "Dean –"

Dean gave him a light squeeze and then released him, taking a step towards Lisa. "Lisa?"

Lisa looked up and smiled. "Dean. What is it? More eggnog?"

"You remember Sammy, right?"

Lisa's face softened. "Of course I do. Wherever he is, I'm sure he wants you to be happy, Dean."

"What? No, Sammy's right here. Look."

Lisa bit her lip. "Dean, I think you've had enough to drink. Maybe you should take a nap?"

"No, look. Sam's _here_."

Dean grabbed Sam, and as soon as he did Lisa turned back to her sister, continuing the conversation about little Carol's first word as though Dean had never spoken at all.

"Do you understand?" Cas's voice said abruptly, and Sam turned to find the Angel at his shoulder. "He can't have it all, Sam. Dean's normal life and Dean's world with you in it can't exist together."

"No," Sam protested. "There has to be a way."

"Sammy?" Dean asked. "What are you talking about? A way for what?"

"Cas? He can't see you?" Sam demanded.

"See whom?" Dean asked, just as Cas said, "This is a shade of the past, Sam. Of course he can't see me."

"But he can see _me_."

"Dean will always be able to see you. That's why he can never move on." Cas patted his arm. "If you want him to have a normal life, Sam, _you _have to go. It's the only way."

"But –"

"Go, Sam. Don't you see? Dean will never be at peace while you're alive, because you'll never be able to make the right decisions. You let him down. You're going to let him down again. It's not your fault. It's just the way things are. If you want him to be happy, if you want to stop making mistakes that could end the world, you have to go."

Cas tugged him towards the door.

Dean followed. "Sammy? Where are you going?"

Sam turned, but before he could say anything, Cas opened the door and pushed him towards it.

"Sam, _no_!" Dean sounded like he was panicking. "Wait! I don't know why Lisa can't see you, but we'll figure it out. You don't have to go."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Wait! I'll come with you."

"You can't. You have to get back to your Christmas dinner and I… I've got a decision to make."

"Sam!" Dean snatched at his arm, pulling him back.

"This isn't real. I have to go, Dean."

"No. You can't leave, don't be stupid. Or, wait – if you have to go, tell me how to contact you. I'll call you tomorrow when they're gone. Or tonight – Sammy –"

Cas shoved Sam out the door.

"_Sammy!_"

The last thing Sam saw was the glimmer of tears in Dean's eyes. Then he'd stumbled through the doorway, and he was back in the motel room.

"What was that?" Sam demanded.

"It was a warning. Think about what you're doing. Consider the risks, Sam, and not just to yourself, but to your brother and to the world. You are a danger."

Cas backed out the door again. Sam didn't bother following; he knew he'd just see the motel corridor if he opened the door.

He sank into a chair.

Cas was… well, Cas wasn't entirely wrong, was he? There'd been other people involved, and external factors, and it hadn't been _completely _Sam's fault, but…

But the fact remained that a hundred things could, probably _would_, go wrong if Sam decided to go back to the land of the living. And he couldn't do anything about other people's mistakes, but if he could even ensure that he made fewer of his own…

Sam buried his face in his hands.

* * *

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	3. Temptation

**Author's Note: **I have reviews to reply to. But (as is happening all too often) I'm going to be out of town the next few days, and I didn't want to leave you without an update till Monday.

So here you go.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta and to all the wonderful people who reviewed.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

**Part II: Temptation**

_Far and lofty yet they glimmer,  
Apples of Hesperides!  
Blinded by their radiant shimmer,  
Pushing forward just for these;  
Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred,  
Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred,  
Always thinking soon to seize  
And possess the golden-glistening  
Apples of Hesperides!_

_(Amy Lowell)_

By the time the second knock came, Sam was waiting for it.

He wasn't even entirely surprised to see Crowley outside.

"What are _you _here for?" he asked.

"I always said you were the bright one," Crowley said, smirking. "Relatively, of course. What do you think I'm here for, Samantha? Castiel, quivering little ball of hopelessness that he is, was full of all the things that could go wrong."

"And _you_?"

"I look at the bright side, Sam. There's always a bright side. May I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Crowley stepped past Sam into the room. "Well, well." He looked around, cold smile firmly in place. "Death always did have a twisted sense of humour. So this is where he's sent you to wait and think."

"Are you really Crowley?"

"Are you really human?" Crowley laughed at Sam's scowl. "Don't get worked up, moose. I'm not the real Crowley. I'm… an echo of myself in your head, created by Death. I'm here to show you the opposite of what the Angel did. Does that make sense to you?"

"No."

"Good. It doesn't have to. I'm here to give you things to look forward to." Crowley snapped his fingers, and he and Sam were standing in the Batcave's library. "The problem with that wretched little winged beast, Samantha, is that he makes everything about Dean. Dean's wonderful, Dean's perfect, let's declare a national holiday because Dean smiled."

"What's your point?"

"That the world _doesn't _need to revolve around Dean. He lied to you. Just to make sure we're on the same page here, let's recap. If you were ever to trick Saint Dean into letting an Angel in his head, you would still be paying for it twenty years later. There's no reason for you to worry about Dean now. There's no reason at all to forgive him."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"Let's take a moment to think, shall we? You're getting all depressed because you assume that going back means helping Dean clean up the idiot Angel's latest mess, but why should you? You suffered in Lucifer's Cage, Sam, and even _I _can't imagine the things he did to you. I think you've done enough for the world, don't you?" Crowley beckoned, and Sam followed him into a room whose walls were covered with runes. "He tried to drive Gadreel out, and he failed. Do you remember being another place like this? Your friend Bobby Singer's panic room? You remember Dean leaving you there to _die_?"

"That was different," Sam said, but his voice sounded uncertain even to his own ears. "I was high on demon blood –"

"And therefore Dean the Magnificent took upon himself the power to decide on your life and death. Are you telling me you didn't resent it even a little?"

"It doesn't matter. It's over."

"Nothing's ever over, Sam. Dean didn't want you to live on your own terms then, and he didn't let you die on your own terms now. He doesn't deserve your consideration. The world's before you. You can go back to college, finally get that law degree. I'd employ you. I could use lawyers, and you're not entirely stupid. You can find a girlfriend, and I'd be willing to discuss a mutual leaving-each-other-alone arrangement."

"And Dean?"

"Why is Dean's future your problem?"

"He's my brother."

"He'll be fine."

Crowley snapped his fingers again, and they were in Dean's room. Dean was on the phone.

"Tell them, _anything_," he was saying hoarsely. "I mean it. Put out the word, Garth. I don't want Angels involved. Reapers are OK. Anything that'll help Sam, no matter what it costs, no matter what I have to do."

"You see?" Crowley asked. "He's doing it again, deciding what your life is worth."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He's trying to help. I would've done the same thing if I'd been in his place – anything to save Dean."

"You _did _do the same thing. In your case _anything _turned out to be demon blood, and it didn't turn out quite the way you expected, but your intention was to save Dean. And he's _still_ not forgiven you for that. It was on his list of Things Sam Winchester Should Feel Guilty About. Admit it, and you'll get on a lot better, Sam. Dean is a controlling bastard."

"Shut up."

"Fine. Don't admit it. You can't change facts, though, Samantha. But there's no need to waste time discussing that. I'm not here to encourage you to mope about the past. I'm here to help you look forward to the future. Follow me."

Crowley walked out the door. Sam went after him.

Instead of being back in the war room, he found himself in Dean's bedroom.

Dean was sitting at the desk, head buried in his arms. He seemed to be asleep. He hadn't shaved for a few days, and his clothes were dishevelled.

Sam frowned. "Is he OK?"

"He's fine," Crowley said dismissively. "Just moping. Doesn't realize how much he wants what he has until it's gone, just like all humans."

"What happened to him?"

"What do you think happened? Little brother finally decided he'd spent enough time living with the world's most dangerous schoolyard bully and got out. Kevin's dead. Castiel is busy finding a new way to screw up basic decision-making. Dean's spending a sad Christmas by himself."

"That doesn't sound like Dean. He'd at least be out… I don't know. _Somewhere._"

"Meeting girls, making friends? Sam. You're such an oblivious idiot sometimes. Dean runs off after every skirt in sight because he has the little woman… or, you know, the big yeti… to come home to at the end of it all. He can't be the Dean Winchester I know and detest without an anchor, and there was only ever one person who could really ground him."

Sam pushed past Crowley to put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean woke with a start, hand going automatically to his belt. He didn't have a weapon, though, and a moment later he realized who it was.

"Sammy?" Rough hands caught at Sam's wrists, tugging until Sam dropped to his knees by Dean's chair. "Sammy? You're… you're here. I didn't change the locks. I thought you might… you know… come back."

Sam's throat burned. "Hey, Dean."

"Are you staying?"

Dean's voice was pleading, at it broke Sam's heart to refuse, but from Crowley's impatient expression he knew he didn't have long.

"I can't," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Is it because of this whole… thing?" Dean gestured around him. "We don't have to stay here, Sam. We can get back on the road – or, hell, even rent a house somewhere if you want."

"Dean –"

"I'll let you have a dog."

"Dean –"

"Is it because of what I did with Gadreel?"

Sam hesitated – he couldn't pretend he wasn't angry about that, but he wasn't about to walk out on Dean because of it.

_Oh, no? _a voice in his head murmured. _You may not be physically walking out, but you're not staying with him, are you? You're just letting Death walk you out instead._

"Sammy?" Dean asked anxiously. "Sam, I know I screwed up, but I was only trying to save you. I had no idea… I thought he'd help you. You can kick my ass all you want, Sam, but don't go."His voice shook. "Please don't go."

"You see?" Crowley murmured. "He's pathetic."

Ignoring him, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's waist.

Dean's breath caught, and then he was hugging Sam back, firm and strong. His hand was in Sam's hair, and the steady beat of his heart was under Sam's ear, and Sam was having a lot of trouble remembering why he was supposed to be mad at Dean.

"Please stay," Dean whispered.

Sam let out a breath. It was hard to argue with safety and comfort and the feeling that, despite everything that had happened to them and between them, nothing could hurt him on Dean's watch.

"You know," Crowley said suddenly, "I hadn't thought of this earlier, but you could probably get Dean to start treating you with some respect. Just make him sweat until he starts begging. I can help you with that. Making deals is my specialty." He laughed. "All right, Samantha, enough. We're on the clock here, and you're due one more visit before Death comes back in the morning."

Sam shut his eyes for a moment. He _had _to go; Crowley would just force him out if he didn't leave willingly. Besides, this wasn't real, and he had to make a decision in the real world.

He gently removed Dean's arms, and got to his feet.

"Sammy?"

"I have to go." Sam backed away, trying not to react to the sudden tears glimmering in his brother's eyes. "Don't… don't worry about me. I have to go but… I'm sorry, Dean."

"_Sammy._"

If Crowley hadn't seized Sam's arm and pulled him away, Sam wouldn't have been able to move.

* * *

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	4. Truth

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Note: **Been a while. But the next update shouldn't take too long.

Many thanks to Cheryl for the beta and to all the lovely people who reviewed. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Part III: Truth**

_Then the forms of the departed  
Enter at the open door;  
The beloved, the true-hearted,  
Come to visit me once more._

_(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)_

Sam didn't know who'd show up for this third visit, but he was half expecting it to be Ruby or Meg or Lucifer.

So when the knock came and he opened the door, he spent a good thirty seconds gaping at the figure in front of him before he stepped back to let the man into the room.

"Hey, Sammy," the visitor said, sitting on the edge of the bed and flashing Sam a familiar mischievous smirk. "I bet you weren't expecting me."

"No," Sam managed to say. "I wasn't."

"Been a while."

"Yeah, it has." Sam hesitated, and then asked, "How are you, Dad?"

John Winchester's smile turned wry. "As well as I can be, I guess. What can I say, Sammy? Heaven's boring. Don't be in a hurry to get there. There's nothing to do all day… But I do get to watch you boys and… I'm proud of you, Sammy. I'm proud of you both."

Sam scoffed, and his father's expression grew serious.

"I mean it. I know we didn't have the easiest relationship, and I admit I was scared of what you might become if Azazel got to you. Maybe I didn't handle it in the best way. Then Dean died and everything _else _happened and you started drinking demon blood and I was… really scared. But you _fought_, Sammy. You fought it, and you beat Lucifer, and you were stronger than I ever imagined you could be."

Sam's eyes prickled.

"Thanks, Dad."

"And another thing… Dean doesn't say it, but I know he's proud of you too."

"You can't know that."

"Sammy, everybody knows that except you. Dean seems to find it hard to say it to you. It's weird, because he never stops telling everyone else. I'm not joking. A couple of days ago he was telling a random guy in a bar how awesome his little brother is."

Sam sighed. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

"Oh, yeah, I was supposed to tell you something. The other two were Fear and Temptation."

"Not Past, Present and Future?" Sam couldn't help asking.

John laughed. "Death has more originality than that. Besides, you and Dean between you have seen plenty of Past and Future, and you'd probably think I was a demon messing with you. No, Sam, this is about you. And Dean. Come with me."

Sam followed his father out of the room.

They were in another motel. Dean was sitting on one of the beds, wrapping a book in bright red paper. A small pile of wrapped things was next to him, and a couple of shopping bags on the floor at his feet.

"What is this?" Sam whispered.

"A couple of days ago, when he told you he was going to spend a night with… Bunny, was it?"

"Brandi," Sam said.

"Yes, Brandi. Anyway, he actually went to get you Christmas presents."

"Why?" John gave him a look, and Sam went on, "Yeah, I know, but it's been a while since we made a big deal out of Christmas. Not since…"

"Not since the year Dean's deal was due. But this isn't just about Christmas, Sam. Not to your brother. Ever since you said you don't really think of the bunker as home… Dean's still scared of losing you, Sammy. Losing you to death, or losing you to something better."

"So he's giving me stuff?"

"He's planning to give you things that'll make you feel like the bunker's your home. Books. A few pictures of the two of you he managed to find. He even got your soccer trophy."

Sam grimaced. "Dean wants me to decorate?"

"Dean wants you to want to stay. And Sam, I know how you feel –"

"Do you?" Sam snapped.

His father studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. "Maybe not. I doubt anybody but you and Dean could possibly understand exactly how the two of you feel about each other, but I think I have a better idea than anyone else. And one thing I do know is that, at least in the last year, Dean's been doing his best to be the kind of brother you want him to be. He's trying to be supportive. He's trying to give you more freedom. Maybe he's not a hundred percent there yet, but he _is _trying. It's just… You're his little brother, Sammy. He can't help needing to protect you. You have to give him that."

"I don't know what you expect me to do," Sam said.

"You're strong, Sammy. Dean knows that better than anyone. You're a good hunter. You can take care of yourself. But to your brother you're always going to be the kid he carried from a burning building."

"So he gets to take decisions for me?"

"No, of course not. We all screw up. But… You have to understand, Sam. Dean does things for _you_. I mean, sure, he does some things for himself, like Bunny –"

"Brandi."

"No, no, Bunny's the girl he really _did _spend a night with in October. So, yeah. The girls, the greasy food, waving those scimitars around all day, that's for him, though even then I don't know how much of it he'd do if you weren't around to pretend to be annoyed by it."

"Hunting," Sam added. "That's for him."

"No, it's not. Not hunting. Hunting's… well, yeah, Dean wants to save people. But it's also for you."

"What? I wouldn't care if he decided to stop hunting. I'd _support _him."

"Sure you would, but you told him he was a genius at hunting." Sam stared. "He saves people, Sammy, and he's happy that he can save people, but he's even happier he's making you proud of him. He _needs _you to be proud of him. And sometimes he's afraid to admit his mistakes because he thinks it'll lessen him in your eyes."

Sam turned back to Dean, who, in all this time, hadn't looked up from his wrapping.

"Why isn't he seeing me?" Sam asked. "He saw me before."

"He's terrified, too scared to think. All your other visits with Dean tonight were… after he lost you. At Lisa's, and at the bunker. He wasn't scared then. He couldn't be, because the worst thing possible had already happened to him. There was nothing to be scared of, nothing that could hurt worse. But _now _he's got you, and he's terrified he's losing you."

Sam watched Dean work. His hands were trembling.

"He shouldn't have lied to me," he said at last. "He shouldn't have tricked me."

"He knows that."

"And Crowley was right," Sam muttered angrily. "Dean never forgives me for anything."

"Sammy, come on. You're old enough that it shouldn't be news to you that your big brother can make mistakes. And, hell, even Batman bore grudges."

"So you're here to talk me into forgiving Dean?"

"Why would I waste breath telling you to do something you're going to do anyway?" Sam scowled, and his father laughed. "I've known you since the day you were born, kiddo. You can sulk for half the world but you're a pushover for your brother. You're going to forgive him soon enough. I know that. He knows that too. That's not what I'm worried about. I don't want you to do something irreversible while you're mad."

"So go back? That's what you're telling me to do?"

"You've grown up, Sam. I can't _tell _you to do anything… What I can do, maybe, is give you some advice. Which you are, of course, at perfect liberty to ignore."

"What?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I know you love your brother too much to stay angry with him forever. I know he would give you the world if he could, and I know he's prouder of you than he can find the words to say." John paused. "I know, if you die now, without settling things between you, Dean will never live in peace."

"Dad…"

His father patted his shoulder. "I spent years trying to control you, son, because I loved you and I was scared for you and I was desperate to keep you safe. And I just wound up driving you away. And now Dean… Sammy, you have to know you're the most important thing in the world to your brother."

Sam watched Dean, watched fingers that normally handled any weapon efficiently, now shaking as they cut tape.

"What do I do?" Sam whispered.

"Don't make a decision in anger," said John. "Do what makes you happy." He tugged Sam in the direction of the door. "If Dean knows you're happy, he'll be happy too."

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	5. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Note: **I know people were hoping for another talk between Sam and Death, but… Well, that wasn't the point. In my head, it always had to go this way. I hope you enjoy!

Many thanks to all my lovely reviewers and to Cheryl for the beta.

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**Epilogue**

_Rose a nurse of ninety years,  
Set his child upon her knee –  
Like summer tempest came her tears –  
'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'_

_(Alfred, Lord Tennyson)_

Dean hadn't intended to fall asleep. He'd intended to stay awake, stay watchful, but four days of no sleep and a bare minimum of food had caught up with him.

He came to wakefulness slowly. It was a moment before he realized where he was – in Sam's room, by Sam's bed – and another moment before he remembered _why _he was there – because, after they'd managed to expel Gadreel, Sam had collapsed.

Cas had told him that, although still weak, Sam was strong enough to survive without an Angel inside him. His body was healing. There was nothing Cas could do for him, and Cas didn't know why he wasn't opening his eyes or responding to Dean's increasingly desperate pleas for him to say something.

Dean had sent him away, set Sam up with an IV, and sat down to keep vigil.

He felt a sudden, unreasoning fear.

He'd fallen asleep. He, Dean Winchester, had fallen asleep on his watch. What if Sam was gone? What if Sammy had _died _while Dean had been sleeping and Dean hadn't even been _with _him at the end? What if –

Questing fingers found a pulse, and Dean relaxed.

He patted Sam's hand.

"Hey, kiddo," he said quietly. "Still hanging in there? That's my boy. You keep fighting, Sammy."

Sam said nothing.

"I know you're there," Dean went on. He didn't know, but he had to _believe_, because that was the only thing that made life worth living. "I know you can hear me, Sammy, and I know we've got issues but we can't sort them out unless you come back." He paused. "You have to come back."

"Fascinating," a voice said behind him, and Dean turned.

Death stood in the doorway.

_No._

"You're here for Sammy?"

Death ignored the question. "You, Dean Winchester, you who have never believed in God and who scoff at faith, sit there, trusting without proof that your brother can hear you, because you _need _to believe. Have you ever considered that the reason other people need to believe in God is that they don't have another human being who can be their touchstone?"

"So… You're _not _here for Sammy?" Dean asked, because he really couldn't be expected to pay attention to philosophical maundering when his baby brother might be dying.

"I didn't say that. I just had a word with Sam, in fact."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not with his body, numskull. With his _soul_. I don't normally make offers to mortals but your brother… Well, let's just say I thought he deserved it. I gave him a choice, and I gave him the night to think about it."

Dean didn't need to ask what choice.

"What did he decide?"

"I'm here," Death said. "What do you think he decided?"

Dean's stomach plummeted. "No. No, _please_. You can't –"

"It was never your decision to make, Dean." Death hesitated, and then went on, "But perhaps my choice of words was unfortunate. I certainly do intend to reap Sam personally…"

A soft sound made Dean turn back to the bed. Sam was stirring.

Dean's gut clenched with anticipation.

"… but it won't be today," Death finished.

He may have said something else, but Dean wasn't listening because then Sam opened his eyes, and he looked tired and sick but he was _Sam_, and Dean helped him sit up and then hugged him. Hard.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Sam shook his head, letting himself sag against Dean as though the effort of sitting up had sapped his strength. Dean supported him and rubbed his back and listened to the sound of his breathing, and for a moment, despite everything else that was wrong, it felt like the world was a perfect place.

"You came back."

Sam huffed a laugh and tried to say something, but he couldn't find the breath and Dean shushed him.

"Save it. We can take a rain check on the chick-flick moment." Sam snickered. Dean rolled his eyes, patting the head resting on his shoulder. "_This_ isn't a chick-flick moment," he explained. "This is just… me being relieved." Not loosening his grip on Sam, he looked up at Death. "Thank you."

But Death had gone.

Dean looked at the space where he had been, and then back at Sam.

"I guess it's just us, Sammy. Us against the world."

Sam's smile said he didn't mind.

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THE END

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